| abstract
| - __NOEDITSECTION__ __NOEDITSECTION__ File:Nav bar left.png Testing the Waters File:Nav bar right.png File:Quest Boss Icon.png Testing the Waters is a that is part of the Power Vacuum storyline. File:World Muddy Battle.jpg Your sword leads a skirmishing party of [Your House]'s troops in a surprise attack against a minor royal outpost.
- Naoi scoops off a particularly wet chunk of pie from her forehead, not even bothering with her hair yet. She takes another bite, but is subtle about it at least. Ziavri pausing to take the washrag is unnoticed. Zia draws up alongside Naoi as the noise and laughter of the party fades behind them, and shakes her head in a combination of amusement and disbelief. "Here," she says, offering Naoi Fox's washrag. "Bathhouses are south, but you can at least see a little better with that." She grins, apparently not a bit apologetic for the pie. Naoi looks to Ziavri at that, swallowing down the bite of the pastry. She does reach out and take the rag, using it to clear mostly the area around the eyes more then anything. She does not bring it up as it stands, but there is not much suggestion of humor. Though? The usually present mask of neutrality is firmly back in place, marred with drips of blueberry and sweet sauce. It could be that Zia simply doesn't have whatever mechanism it is that makes people apologetic. She grins, despite Naoi's dead-pan stare, and starts off at a brisk walk towards the bathhouses. Naoi tilts her gaze forward once more, hands clasping behind her back, careful not to stain her ragged dress further with them. "I am not sure why you feel I deserved that." Zia smiles slightly without diverting her gaze from their path. "Oh, 'deserved' is a bit strong of a word for it. I think my terminology was actually 'needed'. It is good, sometimes, just to join in. Regardless of how ridiculous it may and may not be." "Or so you say, you are an expert in joining into ridiculous things?" Naoi responds, eyes tilting to her companion. Zia's smile may flicker a little bigger. "Well, aye, as much as anyone can be an expert at something like that. Which is a bit of a neat trick in itself, but I'm not about to complain. Shall we say--I try?" "Indeed," Naoi responds, "So, was it good for you? I suspect there was a moment of glee when you noticed who it was." "Aye. I s'pose a bit," Zia admits, and this time her voice *does* take on a bit of a rueful cast. "But, if it makes you feel any better, it's not something I would have done unaided by reflexes. You *did* more or less *appear*. Right behind me. I punched a man on accident for doing something like that, once." At the door to the bathhouses, she stops to open them, letting Naoi enter first. "Yes, well.." Naoi notes with dry amusement. "There is the bathhouse." The woman slips into the room, relaxed enough despite the mess that is her appearance. Decadence made manifest, this bathhouse consists of a large, open chamber, built entirely of polished white marble. The center of the chamber features four pools of varying size and temperature, from the smallest, coolest pool, to the largest, warmest one. Flower petals float on the surface of the water, and gentle perfume mixes with the steam in the air, creating an irresistable atmosphere of calm and relaxation. The bathhouse's small staff, both human and Syladris, unobtrusively caters to the needs of their customers. Dressed entirely in white, they move around the edges of the room, bringing fruit and wine upon request, and bartering payment with customers as they depart. Massages, oils, and other luxuries are provided for those who are willing to pay their steep price. During most of the day, at least one musician is present, filling the bathhouse with soft harp music. The customers of the bathhouse are mostly Syladris, though a few humans can typically be found here in the evening. The baths are unisex, and of course, clothing is not allowed. The Syladris do not seem to mind, or even notice. Screens have been set up in the far corners of the room, allowing patrons to change with at least a bit of privacy. Zia follows Naoi inside, shutting the door behind them and taking a moment just to inhale the perfumed, steamy air inside. "Aye." The bardess makes her way across the floor to the edge of one of the warmer pools and kneels. As she unfastens the clasp of her cloak and doffs her pack, she looks curiously to Naoi. "What did you see?" Naoi follows Ziavri to the edge of the pool, footsteps light yet resounding in the poolhouse. At the question, Naoi turns her head to look back to Ziavri, kneeling slowly. "I am sorry? What did I see?" "Aye. When you were the tree, I mean--what did you see, up there?" She pauses to tug her shirt over her head. The skirt, boots, and stockings soon follow, leaving her in the Fastheldian version of underwear, and apparently unbothered by it. As she bends to submerse her hair in the water of the pool without actually getting into the water, she explains. "I watch best from the centre of things. You were watching from the tree. What did you see?" Naoi licks dry lips, as clothes are peeled away, then looks at the warm water of the bathing house with a furrowed brow. She DOES seem to be considering the question. "An interesting way to present an argument. One is emotional immersion, the other, detatched observation. I saw the Syladris, and how they perceieve the world in all it's simple beauty. The way where energy can draw in the unsure, swirled in and consumed by the moment." Then she too begans to strip, peeling stained and ripped clothes off with precise movement. She leans forward, hands cupping the warm liquid, then rising it in a sharp motion to her face. Zia nods, running a hand through her stickied hair as she does and grimacing as the water in her immediate vicinity turns different interesting shades of purple, red and blue. "Present an argument?" she asks, her voice sounding slightly strange in her upside-down position. "I don't mean to argue. I thought I'd established long ago that I don't mean to change you, though you seem defensive from time to time anyway. I'm just... curious." Scrub scrub scrub. Naoi snorts at that, fingers rising to scrape irritably at the mess in her hair. "It is not defensive. It is blunt and factual. You think your way better, and I think mine is. That you did not mean to make it an argument does not mean that one cannot honestly assess it to be just that." She studies the swirls of color for a moment, wet fingers gently brushing across her features to clear them. "What did you see within that chaos?" Zia smiles faintly, a smile that has little to do with mirth or joy. Perhaps it'd be more readable if she weren't hanging upside-down trying to scrub pie out of her scalp. "No. No, I do not believe mine is better," she clarifies softly. Lifting her hair a little from the water, she fingers through it to see how much is left. Enough, apparently, that she will keep scrubbing. "I saw the people," she replies after a long moment, with a wistful sort of tone. "But then, I usually do. I saw the way the Syladris play, the way the Wildlanders are drawn into it all for their love of it. The way the Freelanders stand at the edges, and wish they could join in, but are prevented by their concept of dignity or pride. And how the nobles think it is all ridiculous and beneath them, or wish that their rank and ideas of grandeur did not prevent them from joining in that fun. Ridiculous or otherwise. And then the ones that truly do simply want to go home, and condemn it all as nonsense that does not apply to them. And more." "It is a wonder you had time to throw your pies with all that attention for detail," Naoi says with as much dryness she can muster half-naked with pie crust still clinging stubbornly to her brow and hair. "You're missing a spot there." Zia laughs, something hollow in the sound. "Isn't it though? Where's the spot?" She fingers through her hair, trying to find it. Naoi takes a clump that still lingers on her left cheek, and goes to smush it brutally into the middle of Ziavri's forehead. "Right there." Zia laughs, barely catching herself before she goes cross-eyed trying to follow Naoi's finger, and flicks the clump away into the water. With another motion, she sweeps her hair behind her shoulders and raises the water to her face with her cupped hands to wash away the remaining stickiness. "Careful," she warns, "you'll remember that I ended up covered in substantially more pie. I 'spect I could still find some around here, somewhere." "Very well," Naoi notes, the hint of of a playful nature fading. She turns to the water fully, to focus on the task at hand. Which is to clean up her image enough to be presentable and only slightly eccentric. Zia sits back on her haunches, inspecting her skin for trace residue of pie filling. Finding none, she picks up her soiled blouse from the pile by her side and begins to scrub it out in the water. A cake of soap left abandoned on the ledge nearby is handy for that. "Mmph. And you say you must be completely unlikable," she chides mildly. It is now Naoi who is in the awkward upside down head near the water stance, neck turning awkwardly to offer Ziavri a curious glance, "So it is said?" The soap moves up and down the blouse, lingering on the spots of pie filling. It's going to stain anyway. Zia sighs. "That's usually followed up with a 'by'," she notes. "So it is said by who?" "Quite a few honestly," Naoi responds, "It is not so rare for me to hear that I am not soft enough, that I am too cold, to brisque. Some like it, some don't. Rarely is middling beliefs made, as it is easier to conform to an extreme then educate oneself." Zia cocks her head curiously, pausing in her scrubbing. "Ah? Do you believe it? Or just others?" "Do you need to be daft, or do you enjoy listening to me talk?" Naoi responds in her dull steel voice, rising back to a more natural angle. Zia smiles. "Either or? Humor me." Naoi wrings her hair slowly, attempting to dry. "Of course I do not think my methods perfect, for I am not. They are in place for a reason. There are others, that take to such warmth with greater ease." "I don't think that's the question I asked," Zia says, situating herself on the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the water. "Do you think that you are 'not soft enough, too cold, too brusque'?" "Then how is this? For some things, not for all things." Naoi responds. "Why the sudden interest." "Acceptable," Zia responds with a shrug. "And... curiosity? Why do I automatically watch the people at a pie-flinging party?" "Fair enough." Naoi notes, allowing the wet hair to fall free. She offers a weary glance to her dress. "It did seem like a fun little event." Zia grins. "Didn't it though? I enjoyed myself. Despite the cleanup." "Is the cleanup such a bad thing? At least you have company, though again, one could argue on my ability to offer quality there." Naoi notes, finally cleansing off the last of the sticky residue. She reaches forward to grab the last of the rough soaps, and then turns to her dress to began the cleaning process herself. Zia grins. "Well, not in and of itself." The water gets the briefest of doubtful glances. "Only... sticky. Ai." She shakes her head. "Aye, well, there isn't likely much that can be done about 'that'." Naoi responds. "That scar is very distinct. Is there a story there, Bardess, or is it for another time?" Zia glances quickly down at her wrist, instinctively moving it to her side, and out of Naoi's sight. "Just... an accident," she says with a small shrug. "Nothing much." Naoi looks to Ziavri at the sudden shyness, "I see. Just an accident. So, now you hide it from me. You are ashamed of your lack of grace? It is, I admit, a new side of yourself to bare." "More at my idiocy," Zia says with a small sigh, and grins. "And yours? You were burned?" "Yet more idiocy of a young girl." Naoi replies dryly, "I am not ashamed of mine. Scars are just markings, sometimes with meaning, often not. If one does not lend them much mind, they lose some of their impact. Of course... one should take a lesson when one is taught so severely, should they not?" "I'm not ashamed of the scar," Zia says, a new curtness lending unfamiliar ice to her voice. "And believe me, it was a lesson I took to heart." Naoi leans back slightly, weight shifting across her haunches, gray eyes studying Ziavri patiently. Zia sighs, dragging her blouse from the water one last time and starting to ring it out. Water splashing into the pool disturbs the colourful blobs floating in it. "Sorry I snapped. There aren't many stories I'm not willing to tell, Naoi, but I'm afraid there's a few." "I am not angry at you." Naoi says, and indeed, the neutral tone has softened somewhat. "You need not apologize. I suppose I got my slap on the wrist for acting as if I am more clever then I truely am." The Ordinator turns to her dress, moving to finish her work on her clothes as well, in silence if the other wishes. And for a moment, she does wish it. Wring, wring, wring. The splash of the water is the only sound in the all-but-empty bathhouse. Not exactly the makings of a non-awkward silence. "You were not acting as if you were more clever than you are," Zia says slowly, after a few minutes of this. "And asking questions isn't wrong. I just... cannot answer all of them." Naoi looks to Ziavri at that, "That is fine. I suspect, there comes a time when I clamp down hard on YOUR curiosity. I am fond of your singing. Perhaps, instead of sitting in awkward silence, you fearing that I will take offense, and I worried that you have, how about you lend your voice instead? Something uplifting to distract me from the last of this oh-so-enjoyable chore." Zia doesn't answer, falling quiet a moment and continuing with her wringing. Indeed, it looks as if she may be turning down that request--until suddenly her music fills the bathchambers. Her voice is clear and pure, confident, and carries easily with the acoustics of the bathhouse. Do you see the roses? How they wave in the wind? A gentle wind! 'tis a summer's wind! Quiet roses. Gentle roses. They could wave like that all day, you know. Wave like that all day. As she sings, she continues with her work, though she visibly relaxes for it. Though it is harder to pinpoint, Naoi does as well, the stiff muscles near her neck loosening at the song, working in a smooth rythm that is an echo of the tune, eyes focused on her work. Zia continues with the second verse, her voice quieting slightly, and losing the tense edge of a moment ago. Smell their fragrance? How it flies on the wind? A gentle wind! 'tis a summer's wind! Such a sweet fragrance. Lovely fragrance. It fills the air with beauty, you know. Fills the air with beauty. Naoi isn't a joyous partner, so she does not join in song. Though, perceptiveness, and a studious glance, could tell much. The mask has softened, gray eyes loosing a hint of their tension about them, muscles uncoiling even more other then the necessary surge as she works the soap deep into the material of her dress. There... as good as it'll get. She rises, to began her own wringing process. Naoi's movement catches Zia's attention, and she glances up at the Ordinator. Just a small smile, and she goes back to her wringing. Oh, that I, too, could be a rose, waving in that wind! A gentle wind! 'tis a summer's wind! That I, too, could be a bloss'ming rose. A gentle rose. A summer rose. The last note hangs in the air for just a moment before fading into the steam that rises off the pools. The soft patter of moisture wringed from Naoi's dress fills the momentary silence. "Lovely. I was entranced, the first time I heard your singing. That Mage, the one that came today, has his own talent and his skill with that Lute is wonderful, but his voice leaves much to be desired." The Ordinator offers a curious glance to her dress, then wrings it again, urging more water from it's material. "Perhaps I will make this a tradition, when or if you do come and seek me out. Get a song from you or...." Her hands twist once more, with surprising strength. "Or strangle it out of you. Do you feel better?" Zia laughs, watching Naoi throttle her tattered dress. "Aye. Honestly, I do." Rising to her feet, she shakes her own blouse out, running the dampened cloth across her fingers and hm'ing thoughtfully at it. Apparently it will do, and she shrugs into it and starts to button up the front. "Taran is the most skilled bard I know," she says. "And he makes a good friend, once you get past the Shadow magic. What's left to be desired in his singing?" "Perhaps it is simply not to my taste." Naoi says, remaining kneeling. "Perhaps it is simply his skill with his instrument that overshadows it, and lends it the air of being less skilled. There are too many variables to give a honest answer." Her dress is still a work in progress, but it's getting there. "Are you off then?" Zia smiles, and reaches for her skirt. "I won't abandon you," she promises. "I just haven't gotten used to lounging around in my underwear yet. Even in the public bathhouses." "I do not think it would be quite -abandoning-." Naoi says, looking over her shoulder as the last button is placed up and the skirt is reached for. Then back to her dress. "We all have places to be, eventully. Or I would certainly hope so. It is ironic that a statement I spoke to you, not so long ago, is now proven untrue. My new home is Night's Edge, should you ever wish to find me. It is convient enough, I suppose, as you are also friends with those there, I believe?" "Aye, I am," Zia answers, slipping into her skirt and then sitting on a dry patch of ground to yank on stockings and boots. "Why the move? You were... proud, I thought, of your achievements in getting the chapels at Jade Gardens, Southwatch, and Pell's Gate to look after." "Thayndor Zahir," Naoi says bluntly, "I am to assist him in his reimmersion to Fastheld culture and proper adherence to several important laws. Celeste, her Viscountess, can be sometimes overly gentle in her approach. So, I am there, to assist and balance that." "Ai, good luck with that." Zia grins. "I can't really say I know Thayndor well, but the word is that he can be quite... willful? At times?" "He is an absolute fool." Naoi says simply enough. "We will see though. He loves himself enough to realize this is certainly his last chance." "Then I s'pose you'll see if he's fool enough to waste it, too," Zia notes with a shrug. Rising to her feet once more, she slings her pack over her shoulder--the final touch to her regular everyday-clothing. Thus dampened, she plucks at her sleeve. "You nearly ready to go? Sleep doesn't sound like such a bad idea, just now." "Yes." Naoi responds, standing up to pull the dress on. "I suppose we will see at that." The voice is muffled at first, until her head pops out the neckline. She looks down at herself, offering a stoney inspection, but looks back up and nods an affirmative to the bard. Zia grins, and starts for the door. "That dress is probably salvageable, if you cut the bottom edge straight and hem it up." "If I should ever wish to appear the courtesan, I suppose so." Naoi remarks dryly. Zia laughs. "So put on some trousers underneath, I s'pose. Or armor, in your line of work. Makes movement easier, at the least." "Perhaps." Naoi allows, "Still though, my shame in walking back in this state is enough. Do you have a bed for the night?" "Aye. I do," Zia affirms. "If you'd like to wait 'til morning to head back to Fastheld, I might be able to talk the innkeeper into making your stay a bit cheaper." Naoi considers that for a moment, then tries honesty on for size. "I am not entirely comfortable in this strange land, but... I am in a dress too short to be proper, my weapon is stowed away, and I am tired and smelling faintly of pie still. I... would like that. If you can somehow convince the man." Zia smiles. "Shouldn't be too hard. Southern Cross. Nice place, if you're not familiar with it..." And she slips out the door.
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